Bats and Bones (The Frannie Shoemaker Campground Mysteries) (8 page)

“Oh, she
would have tried to handle it herself. She would get so mad at people breaking
rules that her emotions would get the best of her.”

“Well, let
us know if there’s anything we can do,” Jane Ann said. “We’re down in sites 15
and 17. It must be extra difficult to be isolated like this, with no friends
and family around.”

Jodi
nodded. “My brother and sister-in-law should be here tomorrow. Hopefully, the
police will let us leave soon.”

“Mr.
Bonnard said there would be a memorial service later,” Frannie said.

“Yes, she
wanted to be cremated. We’ll have a memorial service here in the park and
scatter her ashes when all this is over.” Jodi was crying again, gulping as she
tried to stop. “I’m sorry—I think I need to go back in.”

“Certainly.”
Jane Ann patted her arm. “Just let us know if we can help.”

Meanwhile,
when Frannie and Jane Ann left their campsite and Larry and Mickey were deep in
conversation about supper, Donna said to Rob, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to
the restroom.”

“Maybe you
shouldn’t go alone,” Rob said. “Wait until the girls get back.”

She sighed
dramatically. “I will be fine. The ranger’s right by the restroom watching
those kids on the playground.”

Rob looked
down the road and saw the young man leaning on the jungle gym. “Okay.”

She headed
down the road, and after using the restroom, saw Ranger Phillips still standing
by the playground. She ambled over, waving to Rob who waited by the road at
their campsite for her.

“Kind of a
rough day?” she asked the young man.

“Yeah,
that’s for sure.” He pulled at the neck of his shirt and blushed slightly.
“We’ve never had anything like this since I started. You’re Mrs. Nowak, right?”

“Right,”
Donna said. “I talked to you this morning a little—about Mr. Schlumm. I
can’t imagine how tough this must be to handle.”

He nodded,
and now he definitely blushed.

She lowered
her voice. “I understand he abused his wife. I bet he chased her and that’s why
it happened out on that trail. When we got back to the parking lot, her car was
there with her purse open on the front seat—like she left in a hurry.”

He nodded
thoughtfully, but said, “Well, I’m not supposed to talk about it. Agent
Sanchez, you know, has taken over the case.”

“I hope
he’s still taking suggestions from you, though. After all, you’re the one who
knows the park. I’d better get back before my husband sends out a search party
for me. Good luck!” She smiled and headed back down the road toward Rob.

*********************

Happy
Camper Tip #7

Bunge cords
are the answer to everything that WD40 and duct tape won’t fix. They will hold
bikes on campers, lights on awnings, or pants up if you need a belt.

Late Saturday Afternoon

Frannie and
Jane Ann walked back from the Schlumms. Frannie said, “Dave is looking more and
more like the number one suspect. Funny, I certainly didn’t think so this
morning.”

“But you
know what Larry said—he may have done it in anger and now be very sorry.
He has to be thinking what it will do to his kids and grandkids if it does come
out that it was him.”

“True.”

When they
returned, Donna almost attacked. “What did you find out? Anything new?”

“Dave was asleep.
We just talked to his daughter outside,” Frannie said.

“Maybe he’s
just trying to avoid you.”

“He’s
probably trying to avoid everyone. His wife just died.” Frannie said. Her shaky
patience with Donna was about to fizzle out.

The grill
hung in place over the fire. “Is the chicken in one place or did every one
bring their own?” Larry asked.

“It’s in
our fridge,” Frannie answered. “I’ll get it. Jane Ann’s doing the sausage gravy
tomorrow morning and Donna has pork chops for tomorrow night.”

Mickey
saluted the women and said to Larry, “We don’t deserve wives who are so
organized.”

“Sure we
do. Do I need to list all of our stellar qualities?” He followed Frannie into
the camper and she handed him the plastic bag of marinating chicken breasts.
After he went back out, she got out dishes, flatware and glasses. She also
pulled out an inflatable ice bucket and started to blow it up for the wine. As
she puffed, she looked out the back window of the camper. They had a great view
of the woods from there. The late afternoon sun sifted through leaves and
branches occasionally quivering with the stingy breeze. A few birds and
squirrels scampered or flitted from branch to branch, testing various vantage
points. Eden was at rest.

She caught
a flash of color—bright yellow—and realized someone stood deep in
the woods, maybe a hundred feet in. A man, small and partially hidden by the
understory trees, held something yellow in one hand out in front of him. The
other arm was down at his side holding the handle of a green box or suitcase.
The yellow device had a familiar shape but too far away to distinguish, plus
she was looking through the slats of the blinds. By the time she leaned over
and parted the slats so that she could see, the man turned away from her and
headed deeper into the woods. The walk, the shape, and his size made her think
of Randy, Stub’s friend, but she couldn’t be sure.

Larry came
back in the camper just then.

“Someone’s
out there,” she said turning to him, but when she tried to point out the
figure, he was gone.

“By our
campsite?”

“No, in the
woods. Kind of looked like that guy Randy but I couldn’t be sure. He held something
yellow in front of him…” She snapped her fingers. “Got it! It was a handheld
GPS like ours. Looked like he also carried some kind of case. Maybe just
geocaching, I guess.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Geocaching was a
relatively new hobby using portable GPS devices to find caches hidden by others
that contained trinkets and a log that could be signed and dated if the
searcher was successful. And of course a geocacher did not pose the threat that
a lurking murderer would.

Larry
looked puzzled. “I checked the website before we came and didn’t see any caches
listed for this park. Some of the state parks don’t encourage it, you know.”

Frannie
desperately wanted a reasonable explanation that would not leave her feeling
threatened. “Well, maybe another friend hid something and he has to find it. A
way to pass the time.”

“Could be,”
he agreed.

They both
carried out dishes and other supper necessities. As Frannie arranged their
plates and flatware on the table, she looked into the woods again behind their
site. No sign of the Randy-like creature. Jane Ann noticed her staring as she
set wine glasses down. “What is it?”

“When I was
inside, I saw a guy out there. It looked like he had a GPS so I thought maybe
he was geocaching but Larry said there aren’t any caches here.”

“Right,”
said Jane Ann. “I looked too, earlier this week.” Geocaching provided an
occasional diversion for both couples on their camping weekends.

“It just
kind of creeped me out. Doesn’t take much this weekend.”

“You’re
having a hard time with all this. I mean, even more than the rest of us.
Because of your mom?”

“Yeah, it’s
everything—Mother, Maeve’s death, and one of the places that we’ve always
seen as a safe haven, not so safe anymore. That’s not quite right. I never
thought of these parks as safe or unsafe. I never even questioned it, and now
this.” Frannie looked around to see who was within hearing. Rob and Donna must
be getting food and dishes from their camper. “And, I have no patience with
Donna. Almost everything she says gets my back up.”

“As Mickey
says, she is a piece of artwork,” Jane Ann said, bringing a smile to Frannie’s
face.

“Mickey has
such a way with words,” she said.

“Especially
for an English teacher.”

“Right. I
think I could deal with Donna if we knew who killed Maeve.”

Larry
walked up and overheard her. “Girls, I am ordering a pleasant supper and that
means no talk of murder, okay?”

“Yes,
officer.” Frannie smirked at Jane Ann.

“You always
did think you were the boss of me,” Jane Ann said to her brother. “How’s that
chicken coming? Looks like you’re loafing on the job.”

“It’s about
ready, and here comes the potato salad,” Larry lowered his voice. “As annoying
as Donna is, I’ve heard she makes a mean potato salad.”

“Just ask
her,” Frannie said. Rob and Donna arrived and unloaded their contributions and
everyone bustled around getting the meal on the table. Mickey threw a grubby
towel over his arm and poured the wine with a flourish into the motley
collection of plastic wine glasses. Larry brought over a platter of chicken and
they seated themselves around the colorful table.

After a
toast, Larry announced to the rest that the murder of Maeve Schlumm would be
off limits in the supper conversation and they agreed, although Donna looked
briefly ready to protest.

Frannie
said to Mickey and Jane Ann, “Have you heard from the girls? How is their
weekend going?”

Jane Ann
nodded. “Mona called a little while ago and I talked to Justine too. There’s a
family picnic tonight with some aunts, uncles, and cousins. Their…mother…is
anxious for them to meet as many of the family as possible.” She paused and
pushed a strand of hair back into her ponytail. “I guess it’s going as well as
can be expected.”

“What do
you hear from your kids?” Mickey asked Larry and Frannie. “Sam’s changing jobs
for the next school year, isn’t he?” Larry had his mouth full of potato salad,
so Frannie answered.

“He’ll be
in the same school system but is moving to a different high school. He’ll be
teaching more biology this year and that’s his preference. He and Beth are both
glad they don’t have to move. The kids are so settled in their schools.”

“You have a
daughter too, don’t you?” Donna said.

“Right.
Sally is a social worker in St. Louis. She’s not married but has had a steady
boyfriend for about five years. No sign of wedding bells, though. Kids today.
How about you? I know about the two older boys, but don’t you have a couple of
girls also?” she asked Donna.

The
conversation continued around children, their feats and foibles and, of course,
the amazing grandchildren. At the end of the meal, they all agreed they were
too full for apple cobbler and would save dessert for after the meeting. They
began clearing the table and Larry nudged Frannie and nodded toward the woods.
Randy walked out of the woods toward Ferraros’ RV. Frannie was gratified to see
that he did have a portable GPS on a strap around his neck. “He’s not carrying
anything else, though,” Frannie said to her husband. Randy looked over and
nodded when he noticed them watching him, but kept going back to his group. As
they did their cleanup, Frannie tried to focus on some nebulous thought that
nagged at her. When she and Larry came back out after doing their dishes, she
noticed Jane Ann working on her drawings again. The fuzzy thought clicked into
focus.

“Jane Ann,
can I see that drawing you did of Stub’s campsite again?”

Jane Ann
flipped back a page and handed the sketchpad to Frannie. Larry looked over her
shoulder.

“What is
it?” he said.

“You’re
never supposed to ask an artist that question,” Jane Ann said.

“I meant,”
Larry said, “what is bothering Frannie?”

“This,”
Frannie said pointing. “Remember this afternoon the sheriff or Agent Sanchez, I
forget which—said they were looking for a box with slightly rounded
corners? They didn’t think it was a cooler because the corners on coolers are
more rounded. Well, new ones are, but old metal coolers have squarer corners.”
She pointed at one of shapes in the drawing of the pile that Stub and his
friends had pulled out of their storage compartments. “Jane Ann, do you
remember this one? What color was it?”

Jane Ann
sat with her chin in her hand, staring at the drawing. “Ummm, I’m pretty sure
it was light green—you know, that minty color from the fifties. The color
Mickey always wants to paint the bathroom. It had some writing on the side but
I couldn’t quite read it. After the sheriff and Agent Sanchez left, everything
had been moved and I couldn’t see that one anymore.”

“Did it
look old?” Frannie asked.

“Definitely,
and the corners were not as rounded as coolers now. It was bigger than a
six-pack cooler but not as big as the ones we use now. The handle is on
top—kind of odd.” She pointed to the top in the drawing.

“When I saw
Randy in the woods earlier—and I’m sure now it was him—he was
carrying something light green with a handle on top.”

“What are
you guys talking about?” Donna asked as she, Rob and Mickey all bent over the
drawing. Frannie explained what she had seen out the window earlier. They all
looked over at Stub’s campsite. Randy leaned against the RV, watching them.
There was no sign of an old cooler, green or otherwise.

“What do
you think he’s doing?” Rob asked. “Does it have to do with Maeve’s murder?”

“I think he
hid the cooler—that’s why he needed the GPS. But I don’t know if it has
any connection to the murder or not. If he was the person I heard on the phone,
he’s definitely up to something fishy,” Frannie said. “And, if that cooler is
what was in the cave where Maeve was murdered, there has to be a connection.”

“We need to
stay after the meeting and talk to Agent Sanchez, let them handle it,” Larry said.

“I know.”
Her cell rang and she looked at the screen. “Speak of the devil,” she looked at
Larry, “It’s Sam. Hello?” She proceeded to fill their son in on events and
assure him that they were fine. “I bring my own cop with me, remember? Here,
I’ll give you the man himself. Take care, honey. Give our love to Beth and the
kids.” She handed the phone to Larry. Moments later, Donna and Rob got calls
and Jane Ann heard from Larry’s and her mother. They must have all been
watching the six o’clock news.

“Mom
wondered if you had solved it yet,” Jane Ann told her brother. “She still
thinks you’re invincible.”

“I am.”

“Our kids
apparently don’t have the same confidence. They think we’re in dire danger,”
Rob said.

 
“It’s about time to go to the meeting,”
Donna said, after hanging up with one of their daughters.

“You’re so
right. C’mon Cuba, this can be your evening walk,” Frannie said as she unhooked
the tether and hooked up the leash. Cuba gave her best ‘Carry me’ look but it
didn’t work any better than it had at any time during her 65-plus-pound
adulthood. Rob put the leash on Bugger and they started down the road. Stub and
his friends fell in behind them.

Other
campers were already walking toward the shelter near the campground entrance,
kids and dogs in tow. People moved slowly and looked pretty grim, giving the
appearance of heading to their own executions, but Frannie felt that impression
resulted more from the oppressive heat and humidity than anything. Most of the
campers had nothing to do with the murder and had planned on staying the whole
weekend anyway. But underlying the heat was still the fact that there could be
a killer among them.

When they
arrived at the shelter, they found seats around a table near the back. Ranger
Phillips, Sheriff Ingrham, and Agent Sanchez stood at the other end talking to
a woman in the standard brown DNR uniform. Stub sat a couple of tables down
with his group.

Agent
Sanchez faced the group and held up his hands. The muted conversation subsided
to silence as the campers all faced him expectantly.

“I have met
many of you but for those I haven’t, I am Warren Sanchez from the State
Division of Criminal Investigation. You all know we have an unusual situation
here this weekend, especially for a state park. But before we talk about that
and take your questions, Ranger Phillips has some important weather
information. Ranger?” Sanchez turned over the floor.